


You're My Favorite Trainwreck

by Jougetsu



Category: Peep Show
Genre: Canon Typical Themes, Fake/Pretend Relationship, First Time, M/M, Mutual Masturbation, Real Marriage, Series Spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-08
Updated: 2016-01-02
Packaged: 2018-02-07 23:26:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1918080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jougetsu/pseuds/Jougetsu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“When you think about it Mark it's really the most brilliant plan ever! If we get married we get loads of pressies, our old girlfriends will think they've turned us gay, and your parents will be furious. I don't know why we haven't thought of a revenge marriage before now.”</p><p>OR</p><p>There comes a time in a man's life when he realizes his longest and most functional relationship has been with his male roommate and that they've lived together longer than the requirements for a common-law marriage so he might as well get the tax advantages.</p><p>OR</p><p>Mark and Jeremy get married only to figure out they already were married, but at least they got a new blender out of the whole thing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> \- Canon compliant up through the end of Series 8  
> \- Apparently the tax advantages for married couples are no longer in place, but we'll pretend they still are  
> \- Ch. 1 not beta read or Brit-picked yet, all mistakes are my own  
> \- Being beta read by Pletzel as of Ch. 2

 

With Dobby gone to New York there was really no reason for Jeremy to be sleeping in rubbish bags or snake pits masquerading as bedrooms anymore. He moved back in with Mark without further ado.

That's a lie actually.

There was ado. All sorts of ado.

First there was the fight over who loved Dobby best which thankfully was short-lived as neither of them would agree on the winner and thus the topic was closed when they started cracking jokes about the New York subway. They did agree that Americans had no idea how to run trains properly and if telly was anything to go by Dobby would be suffering the indignity of bus travel after less than a week of American subway.

The next ado was what to do about Jeremy's room. His bed and dresser gone to the great unknown and the walls were that awful 'Apple White.' The boxes and duffel bags of his things looked forlorn in such an anti-Jeremy room. In short there was no way he could sleep there in its present condition.

“I'll just bunk with you until we figure out what to do with my room,” Jez said happily sitting atop Mark's duvet on Mark's bed which was Mark's.

“What's wrong with the sofa?” Mark asked as was his due.

“It's not a fold-out and it smells funny again and honestly, Mark, what's the point of a nice double bed if you're going to keep it all by yourself?”

“There doesn't have to be a point, Jez. I'm sure the Queen has double beds and entire rooms she doesn't use for anyone but herself and no one says anything about it. I'm very much allowed not to use my possessions to the fullest extent of their usage if I please.”

Despite Mark giving an arched brow and his very serious sternest look Jeremy didn't budge from the bed.

“Right, but she's the queen,” Jeremy helpfully pointed out. Mark very much did not admire the curve of Jeremy's ass in his worn sleep boxers as he twisted his body to turn off the bedside lamp. With the light off Mark was able to further not enjoy the view which was a blessing, but on the other hand Jez was in bed with him.

Something told Mark that Jeremy was a squirmy bed mate.

“Yes, she's the queen, but I'm President General Dictator of the Apartment because I pay the rent.”

“Except for when you were unemployed and I was the one who had the job.”

“I have paid most of the rent for the last eight years I think that counts for at least a Viceroy position.”

“So I am the rebel that overthrew your tyranny for a brief window of freedom or am I the Viceroy's concubine? Or both? I was your sister's rent boy after all and frankly I'd much rather be your rent boy because it won't involve any dancing or babysitting your nephew.”

“Please don't talk about my sister and rent boy situations.”

“If it makes you feel any better I like you loads more.” Mark was expecting sarcasm there, but Jez's voice was all genuine fondness which was terrible because sarcasm would allow Mark to kick him out of bed easier. Jeremy crept closer to Mark's side of the bed and yawned as he got as close as he dared to Mark.

He should have known that Jez was a cuddler. Of course he was and he was looking for his next cuddle fix. Mark Corrigan did not tolerate cuddlesluts! Oh dear, there had to be a better term for that.

“That's because I don't make you do anything,” said Mark swallowing back sentiment like the poison it was. “Sara kept you on a tight leash.”

“Mmmhmm, sure Mark,” was the sleepy reply which was no proper reply at all. However, Mark was inclined to be generous since it had been a very trying past few weeks and he was halfway to dreamland himself.

“Tomorrow we go to Ikea or the thrift shop and get you your own bed.”

“....mmmhmmmm...”

“I mean it, Jez, this isn't going to become a habit.”

“...'course, Mark,” Jeremy sleepily smiled to himself. After all that's what they said to the posh dog in that Disney movie and look what happened there.

The thrift shop and Ikea were not to be visited as the next day dawned with a rainstorm that in Mark's opinion was trying to outdo Scotland on holiday. So there was nothing to do but update their CVs, order takeaway, and reassemble the Megatron.

“Right so if we do a skill based template we can highlight your experience with promoting bands for Ben's company and maybe try to connect your life coaching stint to your old nursing job,” said Mark.

How was it that it was so much easier to do someone else's CV? To connect the dots and make something useful out of a sequence of disparate experiences was quite simple really when you had nothing to lose.

Jez poked forlornly at his takeaway curry in a way that Mark knew could only portend ill tidings. Was he going to announce that he'd run away to New York to go after Dobby? Try to life coach celebrities by stalking them?

“Sure, whatever you think's best.” Jeremy pushed the container of curry back onto the coffee table and started putting new batteries in the remotes.

To the onlooker the tableau was dull, but Mark could feel the something churning in his gut that wasn't the curry and that could only be Jeremy Trouble. Maybe if he ignored it the problem would go away before it'd even begun. Yes, just like not making eye contact with those scary teenagers lurking about the park! If you were very lucky they were already mugging someone else and one could get home without fear of GBH.

After a half hour Mark dared to peek over the laptop monitor only to find that Jez was carefully taping the remotes together to resurrect Megatron with the exact expression on his face as before.

Two hours after that both their CVs were rewritten and printed out with some very classy fonts that Mark had carefully selected just before Super Hans barged in and started smoking up with Jez. Oddly enough their pot fueled speculations were quite easy to tune out these days. Mark chalked it up to years of practice.

Until one very dangerous sentence caught his attention.

“You don't need all of that stuff, Jez, I'm tellin' ya',” Super Hans drawled. “If you and Mark get married to each other it'll be cheaper in the long run.”

“What will be cheaper? Why should we get married? What on Earth are you talking about, Super Hans?” he dreaded the questions the moment they left his mouth.

Super Hans may have been an amoral mentally addled drug addict, but he possessed an obscene charisma that rendered mere mortals exceedingly suggestible to his whims. If vampires and the lot turned out to be real Mark was certain Super Hans would become one of their overlords in short order.

“Super Hans says there are all sorts of tax advantages we can get if we're married,” Jeremy said suspiciously more upbeat than earlier, but the weed may have had something to do with his mood enhancement.

“Yes, everyone knows that married couples get a tax advantage. Besides what's the point of saving a couple thousand pounds a year?”

“Are you hearing yourself, Mark? A couple thousand pounds a year extra! Think of what we could do with that money. And it's not like I'm moving out again, am I?”

That was it.

The nail on the head: Jeremy was afraid of moving out.

 

Truthfully speaking Mark was a little afraid of that, too. They may have lied to each other, sabotaged each other's relationships, but they were comfortable with each other and that counted for a lot. In hindsight Dobby, Sophie, and every one that Mark had thought was his One were constant sources of anxiety and stress. Good ol' Jez never tried to change him; he let Mark pick what was on telly roughly half the time, and was usually there when it counted.

Still...

“There are so many problems with that plan I don't even know where to begin.”

“I think it's quite simple really,” Super Hans piped up. Was Super Hans of all people implying that he was thick? Because that was rich, rich indeed!

“Jeremy, look me in the eye and tell me you want to marry me honestly.”

The cheeky sod had the balls to quite solemnly pronounce, “I really honestly want to marry you, Mark. It'll solve all our problems.”

“What problems? It won't help with our employment troubles, the water damage in the flat, my inability to drive a car, your inability to have realistic life goals?”

“It won't be weird that we're living together anymore, you won't have to pretend to be me on the phone for that kind of shit I don't like to deal with because you'll have spousal authority, you can boss me about more, and I will never leave you for anyone as lame as Jeff after having your baby,” Jeremy said ticking off each point on his fingers.

“You can't have my baby, you still won't listen even if I 'boss you about more,' I'm sick of dealing with the bank for you, and it'll always be weird that we're living together.” Mark could tick off points on his fingers as well as anyone!

There that sensible bit of reasoning ought to have put the matter to bed. So to speak. Because there wasn't going to be any kind of bedding happening in relation to him and Jeremy.

“But we'll be married, Mark. No one will be coming between the El Dude Brothers anymore unless we want a threesome or something which is honestly overrated.” When did Jeremy have such puppy dog eyes? Since always probably, how else did Mark get duped into letting him get so entangled in his life.

“It'd be dead convenient that's what,” said Super Hans. “You could do all your shit jointly like leases and bank accounts and car rentals.”

“Jeremy, we've both been married before and both times turned to utter disappointment and betrayal before the ink was dry on the paper. It's a terrible idea and the two of you only think it's brilliant because you're higher than, than blimps at the moment!”

Blimps went up pretty high didn't they? Higher than kites definitely.

The puppy dog eyes went sorrowful and Mark had to escape to the safety of the kitchen to fix himself a cup of tea before they could do their damage.

“You'll see, he'll come around,” Super Hans assured Jeremy. “Your Mark always takes a while to warm up to things.”

Mark forcefully opened the cupboards and banged around with the kettle to avoid hearing Jeremy's reply.

Marriage! It'd be a cold day in you-know-where before Mark thought that marriage would cure all his ills again! No, now that Dobby had run off he's cured of the matrimonial notion. There was nothing left to do but settle into the staid routine of a middle-aged bachelor like his aunts always predicted he would. Sure they had spoken of it scornfully, but really it could be delightful under the right circumstances.

Lots of time to read books, rewrite ‘Business Secrets of the Pharaohs’ so it could actually be picked up by a real publisher, maybe pick up some kind of hobby again like painting. Yes, when Mark thought of it that way it was all rather nice. All that time, stress, and energy wasted after trying to get a lifelong companion simply wasn’t worth it. What would he even get out of it? Even when things were at their best with his lady loves the sex was rarely more than once a week and when it did happen he was so convinced his partner wasn’t enjoying it that he barely got to enjoy it either.

Him and Jez as bachelor roommates was the easiest course to hold to and once Jez let go of Super Hans’ scheme they’d settle right back to where they’ve always been.

Of course that night turned out to be worse than the night before because now Jez was close enough that Mark could feel his body heat. They were separated by mere inches and their feet kept touching every time one of them tossed or turned.

Some rustling preceded a curious,“Mark, you awake?”

“You know I am.”

“I forgot to tell you thanks for doing up my CV earlier,” Jeremy whispered hot breath tickling Mark’s ear and planting the seeds of something in Mark's belly.

“Right, well you can thank me by getting a job and sticking at it.”

Must stay strong Corrigan, mustn't think about the lanky body beside him or how Jez was half nuzzling his ear and neck.

“You sure you don't want me to thank you another way?” The flirty voice came out to play.

“No, Jez.” Down, dog.

“Your loss,” were Jez's actual words. Contrary to those words he cuddled up against Mark's side and nuzzled his nape before saying “Good night.”

Perfect, absolutely perfect, Corrigan. Trapped in bed with a burgeoning erection and the snuggliest smart-mouthed roommate in Croyden whom may or may not also have an erection. Should he push Jez away? The cuddling wasn't entirely unpleasant.

“If you get cold there's an extra blanket at the foot of the bed,” Mark said. He meant to say something like 'Are you getting off on this?' or 'Don't slam the door if you get up to use the toilet.'

“Not cold,” Jez wriggled the tiniest bit to prove the point. “Nice an' warm.”

Where their bodies met was delightfully warm in contrast to the rapidly cooling apartment air. So far Mark had to had it to Jeremy for knowing just how much to lean in and shift his weight for bed sharing. Dobby had a tendency to cling to him for about twenty minutes before sprawling out like a starfish and kicking her feet all night. Sophie wasn't a restless sleeper but tended to put her back toward him after sex as if that mitigated any mid-coitus awkwardness that had arisen earlier. At the time Mark hadn't minded because anything was better than seeing Sophie's disappointed face and not being able to fix the problem.

“Night, Jez” Mark petted Jeremy's curls gingerly. Not that he thought they were going to bite, but that for all Jeremy's flirting the contact might not be welcomed.

He couldn't have been more wrong.

Jeremy gave out a long sound that was halfway between a moan and a purr. His hips canted back and forth as though he'd been wound up tight waiting for this moment.

The whole situation was rather astonishing to Mark. He could hardly remember the last time he had a partner so responsive to a simple touch. Curious to see what would happen he continued the petting and slowly brought his hand down to Jez's neck where he lightly thumbed the other man's nape.

“Mark!” it was a hiss, an intake of air barely audible.

The question of erections was now laid to rest. There was a hardness at Mark's hip that could not be explained away by any other means and his own pajamas were getting quite tight in the groin region.

This was a fine kettle of fish, Corrigan. He'd opened Pandora's box of homoerotic best friend contact and there was no shutting the lid. Fear and social convention kept him in place, petting Jeremy as if nothing were happening south of the equator.

“Markmarkmarkmark-” Jeremy made his name into a mantra and Mark was self-aware enough to admit that he rather liked the sound of it. No mentions of the Almighty or someone else's name: automatic ego boost.

Then there came a series of wet squelching sounds and Mark realized that Jeremy had taken himself in hand.

_There isn't any lotion near the bedstand so did he get this wet all by himself?_ Mark thought incredulously.  _Over me? No, he must be thinking of Dobby's tits or some girl on the bus._

It shouldn't have been erotic to hear, to feel his best mate furiously wanking off and chanting his name – actually that did seem like a rather titillating scenario if Mark was to be honest with himself. Textbook titillation really. From head to toe Mark felt overheated and his pulse leapt erratically.

Without thinking he put a hand down his own pajamas and followed Jeremy's lead for lack of a better plan. A few strokes had his nipples hardening, a few more his toes curling, and finally a whispered “Please Mark,” from Jez sent him over the edge.

A minute later Jeremy's breathing stuttered before ending in a hushed sigh as he tensed and climaxed.

Surprisingly Mark hardly felt any shame, that famed post-coital languor kept him dozing in place and relishing in the lazy pleasure blanketing his body. This was something of a novelty, no condoms to fumble off, no questioning if one's partner came, just two people floating in a haze of afterglow.

Much to his relief Jeremy didn't break the silence. Instead Jeremy shimmied out of his boxers and used them to mop up their ejaculations. Seed that was nearly co-mingled had they been naked. Mark wondered for a brief wild moment what the difference in taste might be.

_Jez would probably be sweeter considering all the chocolate biscuits he eats_ , Mark reasoned, biting his lip to stay quiet as Jeremy wiped his stomach and groin gently.

The fabled heterosexual panic wasn't settling in yet. Was it because he had burned through all his sexuality worries with Johnson? Or because he was actually bisexual and actually accepting it? Or was it going to hit him come the morn?

Properly cleaned up Mark let sleep creep upon him without further worry. So what if Jez just tossed the soiled boxers onto the floor and didn't put on a new pair and as such was now naked from the waist down in bed with Mark? The world wasn't going to end.

Besides the sheets were still covering them and Mark still had his pajamas on so really it wasn't as gay as it could be, right? Right. Of course.

It was probably very gay.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mark has a job interview and Jeremy rethinks their scheme.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge thank you to my beta-reader Pletzel for being all around amazing!

Usually a sexual encounter meant that Mark couldn't properly look said sex partner in the eye for at least two days. Leave it to Jeremy to be so shameless that Mark couldn't even uphold the proud English tradition of prudishness. Jez was still asleep by the time Mark had showered and had breakfast. When Mark returned to the bedroom shook his shoulder Jez murmured something inaudible and tried to bring Mark's fingers to his mouth. 

"You really have no sense of propriety," Mark said to the sleeping figure. "How on Earth did we ever become mates?"

No answer was forthcoming from the supine Jeremy which was a relief because his flashes of insight were becoming too frequent. Mark stood for a moment unwilling to let the day truly begin and break the spell of the night before. From an objective point of view the tableau before him was absurd: standing over his roommate while said roommate tried to suckle sleepily on his fingers. In what world was that a regular occurrence? 

Amsterdam, perhaps? 

He wretched his hand away as if burnt. This was not his life. His life was supposed to be loan managing while Sophie stayed at home with the baby or being an investment banker with a lady wife like Big Suze according to his dad’s wishes. Not this, not unemployed living with a failed musician and not hating it. He should hate every moment of his life because none of it was going to plan. It was a series of failures, and takeaways, and arguing about dip varieties, and coming home to someone who knew how he liked his toast. 

The pit in his stomach grew alarmingly as it often did around the time of epiphanies. Mark squashed it as he scribbled out a hasty note about going on errands and left the flat. 

Pale autumn sunshine greeted him and for half a moment it felt like everything was right with the world. Everything was so right that he decided epiphanies be damned he just wasn’t going to think any deep thoughts for the rest of the day. 

Apparently not thinking was quite pleasant if one could settle into it and that very much explained the surplus of idiots in the world. Mark very deliberately did not think about the other people on the bus. Instead he just listened for his stop to be announced. He did not over-think when he arrived in Argos and chose a cheap but comfortable bed for the guest room, Jeremy's room, and put it on a payment plan.

He did not think when he ran into Super Hans on the street and took a scuffed business card from him without even looking at said card.

"Mark, you got to see this bloke in like three days," Super Hans followed him into the supermarket. "I promised him you're just the one he's looking for. So just go with what he wants, yeah?"

"What's he looking for? A kidney? A patient for a dangerous experimental medical procedure?"

"No, it ain’t anything like that. Someone from his little office just up and quit and he needs someone to proofread something or other."

"Really now? Is this some kind of joke? Are you still angry about what happened at Bath, Bathrooms, and Fixtures?"

"What? No, that shit is still going great for me. There's this guy I met when his kid was in hospital and I ran into him today. He runs a small publishing department specializing in history books or something. Thought you'd be perfect so I ran your name by him."

Something told Mark that Super Hans was somehow at least partially responsible for the aforementioned kid being in hospital, but this was neither the time nor place to press any further. Proofreading was downright middle class! Not to mention it combined his love of correcting the mistakes of others with the satisfaction that he was improving what was once unreadable. 

Hopefully it was the normal sort of proofreading and not a code word for dictating the memoirs of a violent unstable criminal slumlord. Hans would've have mentioned that, probably. 

*

The three days passed so slowly it was nigh unbearable. For once Jez was behaving like an almost adult and was out every day looking for work so Mark had the flat to himself. 

At last the morning came when Mark took a taxi to the address on the stained business card. The location didn't exactly fill him with confidence. Graffiti in every alley and on every skip, at least a third of the area looked in desperate need of repair. If he could make it there and back without being mugged or having his kidneys stolen Mark would consider it a success. Steeling himself he rang the intercom, "Er, hello? This is Mark Corrigan. I'm a friend of Hans. He said you were expecting me? About the proofreading job?"

"Ah yes! Come in, come in, we're unlocking the door now."

Through the front door and up the stairs Mark found a shockingly normal looking office. Or rather nicer than normal. There were lamps instead of overhead fluorescent lights, bookshelves that didn't look as though they came from an office supply wholesaler, and some faux wooden flooring that gave it all a rather warm look. There were barely ten people in the place, but no obvious receptionist that left Mark floundering as he wondered what to do next. "Hi, I'm Mark Corrigan." 

Great he was introducing himself to the air because the employees clearly didn't care. All right that wasn't entirely true, at least three of them looked up from what they were doing for a half moment before returning to work. 

A tweedy professor type gentleman came out one of the adjoining office doors and waved him over. "Mark, right? Come in, come in, I've been looking forward to your visit all morning. I'm Renard Bridges, Professor of Ancient History, as I'm sure Hans mentioned. More like associate professor these days since I'm busy with this tiny sub-division of our university's publishing." 

Did interviewers actually look forward to interviewing? The sadistic ones surely did as exercising power over others always came with a thrill, but this was no standard HR manager. Hiring managers were usually ill-fitting cheap suit types with dead eyes and plastered grins. 

"Thank you for seeing me, Professor Bridges," Mark smiled. Attempted to smile though it probably came off as a particularly strained wince. 

Bridges motioned to the chair in front of his desk as he took a seat and waited for Mark to get settled. "I don't know how much Hans told you about the position." 

"He was a bit light on details. I think he's got a lot going on right now at Baths, Bathrooms, and Fittings." Thanks to years at JLB Mark had experience with hiding his ignorance to please a potential boss or supervisor. 

"The pay is unfortunately lower than it should be," Bridges said. "You'd be doing a lot of proofreading and copy-editing manuscripts for publication. There's a bit more if I can find the official job description we used the last time we advertised the post." 

"Not that I'm trying to look a gift horse in the proverbial mouth," Mark said. "But is there a reason you're not advertising this time?"

Was his subconscious that determined to sink his only job lead? Why not tell the man he was a moron for asking Super Hans for a job candidates while he was at it! 

"Oh, it didn't work out the last few times. Ended up costing a lot of time and money so I was hoping to interview some recommended candidates before resorting to ads again. But when Hans mentioned your circumstances in passing, I decided I wanted you to come in." 

Circumstances? Surely Hans didn't come up with some fake back story for Mark to live up to? It wasn't Hans' style to do such a thing, but Mark also didn't know how high Hans was when he mentioned Mark's mysterious circumstances.

"Yes, well, I'm not sure what Hans told you. I'm grateful for whatever job I can get in this economy." 

"Especially with the expense of the wedding coming up," Professor Bridges nodded in sympathy.

"The w-wedding?" Mark stuttered and hated himself for it. Play it cool, Corrigan! he berated himself. "Yes, weddings can be expensive even when one tries to keep it small." 

"Omar and I haven't gotten round to a nice big party since the legislation passed, though we did get the marriage certificate," said Professor Bridges. "How long have you and your partner, Jeremy was it, been together? Hans said it was quite a while, but I can't quite remember exactly." 

A gay professor of history wanted to hire Mark because he thought he was helping out a fellow gay man. Hurrah for queer solidarity and all that. 

"Well, we've been living together for nearly a decade," Mark said. "But it's only recently that we've done the engagement thing and made it more official." 

Lying to his friends and family in order to get home appliances and make exes feel insecure was one thing. Defrauding a history professor was another. On the other hand jobs in publishing didn't come around everyday. 

And really it wasn't a total lie now was it? They had been living together long enough for what would have been considered a common-law marriage in some countries (provided one of them had been a woman) and they were going to do the whole reception and legal piece of paper. 

Jeremy was a bisexual or pansexual or omnisexual or whatever it was he was using as a label these days. And Mark was not totally straight, just mostly straight with huge exceptions like Alan Johnson and Jez and sometimes certain Shakespearean actors with their elocution and high cheekbones. 

While Mark was collating his justifications, Professor Bridges continued with the small talk. Before Mark knew it they were having a cup of tea in the cramped office and some biscuits had been magicked up from a drawer. It was less a job interview and more of a sit-down with a favorite uncle. 

Two hours later Mark left with a signed contract (with an actual cheque that was a salary advance to 'get him through the month') and the vague promise of a little sit-down dinner with Professor Bridges and husband. The latter was daunting if he thought about it too long but the former had him ready to burst into song like he was a Julie Andrews ready to nanny some children. 

Things were looking up. 

*

Now that Hans had a steady job and Jeremy didn't, he noticed his friend's absence much more. Fortunately Hans' sales rep gig didn't have nearly as many hours as Mark's old loan office jobs and when Hans had made his commission goal for the month he was able to bum around with Jeremy like the old days. 

Except Hans was getting more straight edge with his last few girlfriends and something about the Baths people being sort of testy about any sign of drug use other than weekend weed. Which all resulted in them both being only slightly baked when Hans got philosophical and Jeremy found it more upsetting the closer to sober he was because Hans sometimes zeroed in on him too much. 

"The thing is, Jez," Super Hans started. "Your past relationships never worked out because you're all co-dependent and shit." 

"I'm not co-dependent!" Jez was reasonably sure he wasn't co-dependent because it sounded like a bad thing the way Hans was talking about it and that would mean all those break-ups were his fault. "It was all bad timing and compatibility issues. Like me and Zahra, we thought we'd be sexual dynamite but it was all mismatched." 

"You gotta let me finish, Jez," Hans rolled his eyes. "That was all in the past. Those ladies were all independent types that didn't like being tied down. I mean I know you're a free spirit and all, but you do like all your ducks in a row, yeah?" 

"Whatever," he frowned at the television. Why couldn't Super Hans get philosophical about shit that didn't involve Jeremy? If he wanted to be therapised he'd go back to that really amazing therapist with the bendy-cock name. And speaking of ducks in a row, ducks were all nice in a row. How could anyone play that fair game if the ducks weren't in a row?

"So like your co-dependent types get all up in each other's shit more than most people," Hans continued. "But if you've got two people and one of them ain't like that it all falls apart. So your exes they weren't co-dependent and that's why you're single." 

"Sure, Hans." Hans knew damn well there were very good reasons that Dobby, Sophie, Big Suze, Stu (got a bit of monk on the side for two weeks and it had blown his mind), Zahra, and all the others didn't work out and they had nothing to do with Jeremy. At least half those break-ups were somehow Mark's fault. 

"Jez, you ain't listening, it's not really your fault is what I'm saying," said Hans. "All them co-dependent types tend to get married or chained down to another one before they're like twenty-five. Most of them are out of the game by now. But Mark is bleeding perfect. You're both the same flavor of messed up." 

"We are not the same flavor! I'm spicy sriracha and he's orange marmalade." 

"Same flavor or complementary flavor, whatever," Hans had the audacity to ruffle Jeremy's hair. "You should be happy. Mark's the longest relationship you've ever had and you're not too bad for each other. You help him get the stick out of his ass and drag him into enjoying life once in a while. He makes sure you're taken care of." 

"Whatever, Hans," Jeremy opened a fresh packet of crisps that had been sitting on the coffee table. "Me and Mark probably shouldn't get married anyway. I mean it's still a brilliant idea to get presents and piss off loads of people, but maybe it's not a good idea. What if I meet a solid-gold hottie the day after the wedding? Or Dobby comes back from New York and Mark wants to have it on with her?"

"You were all over this the other day, Jez," said Hans. "Anyway you can always annul it later if you change your mind. Sign a couple of forms and it's all like it never happened." 

Of course what were the chances either of them would meet someone not only better than the other but also that new mystery hottie would want to date them? So maybe he was worrying over nothing, but one question did still niggle at the corners of his brain: "But I'd still get to keep the gifts right?" 

"What else would you do with them?" Hans said. "I mean you don't return gifts to people. You do fuck all with them even if you don't like them." 

"That sounds mostly right. I mean people don't ask for the gifts back when there's a mistake or a cancellation." Probably. 

Before he had time to wonder if Mark would also believe in keeping gifts after an annul-thingie the front door opened and Mark bustled in with too many shopping bags.

"Hans! Super Hans!" Mark was giddy and actually left the bags on the kitchen table instead of putting everything away properly. "You wonderful wonderful maniac!" 

"Take it it went well then?" Hans grinned cockily. "Told you I'd set you up right." 

"Wait, what happened? Mark we can't afford a big shop like this. I mean spending money we don't have is sort of my thing," Jeremy stared at the pair of them, manic Mark and cocky Hans. 

"Hans recommended me for a job and I got the job!" 

Technically it was the second time Hans got Mark (never Jeremy!) a job lead, but Jeremy was loathe to bring up the last one since Mark still blamed him for his firing. It wasn't his fault Mark didn't have a license and couldn't make sales. His boss would've totally forgiven Jez's attempt at con-artistry if Mark had the numbers he was supposed to. 

"Right, that's great, but Mark I've been thinking..." With a new job the whole marriage scheme probably was irrelevant now, right?

"And it's all thanks to you! Well mostly Hans, but you're the cornerstone of the scheme, Jez," Mark's smile flashed all sorts of danger signs. "Because we're getting married!" 

"About that, I was thinking maybe we--" 

"I'll leave you two lovebirds to celebrate," Hans got up and shook Mark's hand said, "Don't do anything I wouldn't do," and then had the audacity to wink before leaving the flat. 

"We can afford champagne, Jeremy, actual champagne!" Mark busied himself putting away the groceries now that Super Hans was gone and duly thanked. "And brie instead of Dairylea! Couldn't decide between Twirls or the fancy chocolate so I got a bit of both!" 

Jeremy decided there was no use spoiling dinner at this point so he shelved the question of marriage for a good four hours. In the end they didn't have a real dinner so much as drink champagne and eat too many snacks from Mark's big shop then put on the DVR because they'd missed some episodes of Storage Wars. 

Maybe it was the bubbles from the champagne, but they were both a great deal more tipsy than if they'd just stuck to beers and Jeremy was finding Mark's excitement contagious even though Jeremy knew nothing about the job other than it was about history books and that was Mark's wheelhouse without a doubt. 

When Jeremy came back to the sofa from a quick nip to the bathroom Mark downed a glass of champagne and immediately pulled Jeremy into a sloppy kiss. As a rule Jeremy didn't have a thing about kisses being sloppy or neat, but the shock of it being Mark had him pulling away eventually. After a few minutes and Mark having sort of pinned him to the sofa.

"Um, so this is it? You're kind of gay for me now?" Jeremy had only enough blood to his brain to be able to ask two questions in a row because the rest of it was downstairs. 

"Well we're getting married," Mark pinched his nipples with predatory enjoyment and Jeremy squeaked because he was usually the one initiating the nipple play with a partner. 

"We don't have to get married," the argument was weakened by Jeremy rolling his hips to get more friction. 

"My new boss is gay, Jez, and he thinks I'm getting gay-married to you," Mark fairly giggled from the pleasant buzz the alcohol was giving the proceedings. "He wants to have dinner parties with me and my husband so we can meet his husband. I'm finally going to be treated as part of the inner circle."

"What was in it for me, again? Besides the presents and being entitled to half your stuff?" Why couldn't he get a job out of pretending to be gay? There was that gay-for-pay porno Hans had told him about, but porno only sounded like a good job until he found out how annoyingly unsexy it was like a real job.

He'd also been told he didn't have the right 'look' or the right 'aptitude' when he did meet that producer Hans knew. 

"What happened to not wanting the El Dude brothers to break up?" Mark bit at Jeremy's neck as he increased his frantic hip thrusting and brought one hand down to fondle Jeremy over his sweatpants. "You never wear underwear under these things do you? It's unhygienic!" 

"Don't see you complaining now," Jeremy grabbed at Mark's stupidly thick hair and tried to get his own bit of necking in. 

"Yes, I am! Saying it's unhygienic right now is complaining!" the complaint did not stop Mark from prodding behind Jeremy's balls because he knew Jeremy was all about the anus and it was easier to accommodate with at least one moderately thick layer of fabric as a buffer. 

A few rubs against his hole had Jeremy howling (like a banshee in Mark's opinion which he would bemoan later) and coming far too hard from what barely counted as a handjob. 

Either Jeremy's super amazing sex noises got Mark further aroused or because he got off on making Jez come like a teenager in his pants (control freak), Mark wasn't far behind on the orgasm train and slumped on top of Jeremy once finished. 

"Just to review," Mark mumbled a minute or two later. "We're getting married so I can keep this amazing job, get a lot of presents, and anger a lot of people we know."

"I want an add-on or whatever you call it about handjobs," Jeremy mumbled back. "And blowjobs. And sex in general. I'm not going into one of these sexless marriages for the money unless the money is even better than what you've implied." 

"We'll figure something out," said Mark so agreeably that Jeremy wondered why they never got drunk and got off together sooner because this was much more convenient than going clubbing.

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on [tumblr](http://juniperstreet.tumblr.com) for fic snippets, open drabble requests, and other miscellany!


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